Panic
by bandgrad2008
Summary: Imogen's paranoia is hurting her relationship with Fiona. Will it completely destroy them? Fimogen.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**A/N: This was a little difficult to write, both for the angst(which is usually easy for me) and for the fact that it's incredibly hard not to write Imogen as bubbly and weird like she usually is. So yeah, Imogen's definitely going to be OOC, but hopefully you can look past that for the story. **

**Dedicated to BrutalicTragedy.**

**Enjoy.**

A lock clicks, followed by a sigh and the thud of a backpack landing on the bedroom floor. Another day of school ends, full of whispers, of secrets, and she's exhausted, tired of constantly hiding behind a façade. She knows he's becoming suspicious, his eyes always following her around lately. Her skin crawls, her eyes darting from face to face, echoes of laughter in her ears, as though they're laughing at her, as if they can read her mind.

She's almost positive they can.

The wooden door is solid against her back as she slides to the floor, hands over her ears as she shouts for the laughing to stop, wishing the torment would cease. But it only crescendos, voices vibrating painfully against her ear drums until she's sure they're going to explode. She squeezes her eyes shut, so tightly that white spots splatter against the darkness behind her eyelids.

"Imogen…" Behind her is the rapping of knuckles against the door, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. Her eyes snap open, her vision blotched, her heart throbbing beneath her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she trembles as she stands, leaning against the door for support. She hears another few taps before her hand finds the doorknob and she opens the door slowly. Fiona stands in the hallway, arms folded across her chest, her eyes soft and concerned. "What's going on with you lately?"

But she can't speak, a lump forming in her throat, growing with each passing second as she fights tears that threaten to spill. Fiona frowns, dropping her arms and slipping them around the other girl's waist, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Neither of them speaks, Imogen's silent tears rolling down her cheeks and seeping into Fiona's shirt. There's no need for words now, Imogen clutching onto Fiona as though she's the only thing keeping her from fading away. She can't help the doubt running through her mind; _she doesn't love you, she's pretending she does, every word is a lie to make you feel better, everything you say is wrong, she hates you…_

Fiona takes Imogen's hand, leading her to the single bed at the opposite end of the room, and they sit, avoiding each other's eyes. The distraught girl wipes her eyes, wishing the voices in her mind would leave her alone, would stop torturing her about Fiona's motives, but she can't make them disappear.

She glances in the other girl's direction, the pounding of her heartbeat thick in her ears. Questions rise in her throat, but the fear of offending Fiona impales her like a stake through the heart, her tongue thick and her lips glued together. The older girl closes her eyes, her fingers letting go of Imogen's. "You know…I'm supposed to be the one you're able to talk to, Imogen." And Imogen knows she's right, the death-like chill creeping up her spine, the thrumming in her ears dull now.

"I know…"

Fiona's eyes open and she stares at Imogen, disbelief flickering behind her eyes. "No…apparently you don't. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation, and you wouldn't be acting as though I'm going to murder you." She runs a hand through her hair. "What did I do to hurt you, Imogen? You've never been like this."

Imogen sighs and twists her hands in her lap. Fiona lays a hand over them, a silent plea to stop. "I…Do you love me, Fiona?" The moment the words leave her tongue, she knows she's done the worst thing imaginable. A blanket of silence fills the bedroom, surrounding both girls, and Imogen wishes she could take the words back. She isn't supposed to be this pessimistic shadow in life, always frightened to make her next choice. Instead, she's pretended to be full of life, as though nothing could tear her down, hiding her true self.

And she despises it, loathes hiding behind a mask.

Fiona stands and crosses the room to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she pauses and turns to face Imogen. "If you really have to ask that…I don't know why you ever said yes." Before Imogen can respond, she opens the door and disappears into the hallway, her footsteps dull thumps on the staircase.

The only thing that made sense in her life was gone, and she was unsure of what to do, the voices raising in the back of her mind, arguing over Fiona's intentions, telling her that it's a trap and that the other girl is trying to make her feel guilty. And what's worse is that she knows that she's to blame for her guilt, not Fiona, but that doesn't satisfy the tugging in the back of her mind, attempts to pull her into a deep depression.

The next day is worse.

She sits in the art room alone in the darkness, head resting on folded arms. Eli stands by the door, reluctant to approach her, but he understands. The Imogen he knows would never hurt Imogen, intentionally or not; she was floating on insecurities and paranoia that maybe she isn't meant to be with Fiona. He knows all too well of the scratching at her ribs, the invisible gnawing bugs that creep across her skin when she feels that someone is listening to her thoughts.

He moves toward her slowly, careful not to startle her, as though he's sure she'll run away like a wounded deer. Sitting at the seat across the table from her, he smiles softly as her head raises, her eyes meeting his with caution, and he can see the hurt, the pain inside of her. She's full of emptiness, barely existing anymore, and he doesn't know how to help her. If she would only tell Fiona what's happening to her, he's certain the girl would understand, but convincing Imogen of that…she would only believe the lies in her doubt.

Imogen frowns. "Have you come to tell me I'm an idiot for questioning Fiona?" She sniffles. "I'm already aware that I am."

Eli sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "Look, Imogen, I'm not here to butt in with whatever's going on between you and Fiona. Fiona hasn't told me anything, and you haven't, and I'm not going to ask either of you." He shakes his head. "But I know you don't think you're good enough for her, that she's lying to you. She isn't because I know for a fact that she loves you. You're all she ever talks about, and I don't think I've ever seen her smile so much since I've met her, at least not until she was with you. But whatever's going through your head about her…you need to talk to someone because it isn't healthy. If you're doubting everything Fiona tells you, how can either of you ever be happy?"

Of course, he's right. He's always been right when it comes down to Fiona and Imogen, and she knows she needs to believe him, to take his word over the voices and the humming in her ears, drowning her logical thoughts in a black sea of pain and sorrow. "You don't know, Eli. You just don't know what I'm going through. How can I talk to someone who doesn't understand?"

He closes his eyes and stands. "Just talk to her."

She's alone again, her eyes trained on the seat that was previously preoccupied. His voice echoes in her ears, the inhuman voice telling her that everything is a lie, that she can't trust anyone or anything. And when the bell rings, she's not sure she does.

Fiona's at her locker when Imogen searches for her. She rolls her eyes at the younger girl and pushes past her in the direction of their classroom, but Imogen's hand snaps out and her fingers are encircling Fiona's wrist before she can control herself. Fiona turns to her, impatience written on her face. Imogen swallows before kissing her, pinning her against the lockers. But the other girl doesn't want this and pushes at her shoulders. "Imogen…I can't."

"I can't lose you, Fiona. There are things that I know and things that I don't, and that line has slowly disappeared, and I only doubt myself and others anymore. But I can't help it. I make these stupid assumptions that…" She pauses because she doesn't know how to tell Fiona without the older girl walking away from her. And she needs her to understand. "I'm afraid every single day that you're going to leave, that you really don't feel the same and that you're pretending. I've told myself that you mean it, but whenever I do, I feel that you're just saying what you think I want to hear."

She's afraid more than ever, the fear nipping at her brain. Fiona doesn't speak at first, her hands still on Imogen's shoulders as she processes Imogen's words. Finally she breathes, her eyes meeting the shorter girl's. "Why didn't you just tell me? I would have understood, and I probably wouldn't have reacted the way I did yesterday."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want to hear these echoes in my head that tell me that you're lying. I want to _know_ that you're being completely honest with me, that you're not just telling me things I want to hear. I want to know that you love me and you're not pretending. I want everything to be the way it was before, when we could be happy and I didn't have to act as though I'm not going insane. Why can't I be normal?"

Fiona drops her hands from her shoulders and takes Imogen's hands. Kissing her gently, she smiles. "How can I not love you, Imogen? You're adorable, smart, and you have the wildest imagination that I've ever known anyone to have. I can't promise that I would never hurt you because it's inevitable when falling in love." Imogen chuckles, ignoring the menacing voices, and pulls her girlfriend toward the front of the school. "Where are we going?" Fiona asks, honestly unconcerned about missing the rest of their classes.

An hour later, they're tangled in a blanket on the sofa in Fiona's living room, a French film unwatched on the television as hands wander, lips together in kisses full of desire. Doubt begins to fade with each breath, replaced with certainty and passion, and the voices protest angrily. Imogen ignores them, her eyes closed as Fiona's mouth finds her neck, and truthfully…she wonders how she ever gave into doubt.


End file.
